


Sweet Teeth

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Castiel, Castiel in the Bunker, Human Castiel, M/M, Mouth Kink, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-S08/Pre-S09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1364713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Human Cas has an oral fixation. Dean is just fixated on his mouth. <i>(A bit AU: Cas comes straight to the bunker and Sam doesn't have an angel inside of him.)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally posted an earlier draft of this. It's been fixed now. Sorry 'bout that!
> 
> Additional notes: In this story (and some subsequent stories I'm planning to write), Dean tends to conflate being human with possessing sexual desire. I obviously _don't_ include this detail because I believe that's true, but because I think Dean more than other people would have difficulty grasping that becoming a human doesn't automatically make one interested in sex. Asexual people are as much _people_ as anyone else.

Normally Dean had no qualms about being cooped up in the Bat Cave. Yeah, he was a hunter, but he was also a bit of a homebody; and as he hadn't had anything remotely resembling a true home since he was a kid, to be able to call a place his own that hadn't yet been blown to smithereens or burned to the ground seemed almost too good to be true. And anyway, the Bat Cave was pretty awesome as was. Dean would've been perfectly happy living in a concrete box, but this place had all the trappings of a superhero hideout: costumes and weapons and an old-school database of information used to fight crime. It was practically heaven.

These days, though, it was all getting to be a bit too much for him.

_Too much_ , of course, didn't refer to the complications that arose from living with three other people (and one pissy demon) _._ Sure, Sam was all OCD about putting back the library books exactly where they'd found them, and Kevin would rather level up in Skyrim than spend his every waking hour translating ancient texts (not that Dean could blame him), and Crowley was... _Crowley_ , but it wasn't all bad. And while the fallen angels were definitely a problem, the bunker's library at least offered something in the way of answers.

No, the problem was all Castiel. Specifically, _human_ Castiel.

It started when the fallen angel had discovered candy, and had only snowballed from there. When he wasn't being distracted by Cas's journey of culinary discovery, Dean was mentally cataloging all the ways he would cheerfully murder Willy Wonka if the bastard ever happened to show up courtesy of some moronic enchantment or another.

Case in point.

"Sam bought me a new kind of candy yesterday, Dean. Do you want some?" Cas pushed a bowl of Hershey's Kisses across the counter towards Dean, who was pretending to pore over a book of Enochian translations. "It's very good. Much better than jelly beans, but not as good as Skittles." He was having a grand old time figuring out his various likes and dislikes as a human, often bugging Dean like he was now to tell him the results of his random experimentation. So far he'd learned that he loved listening to records of big band music, scratching the ears of kittens at the pet store, the smell of morning dew, and anything with sugar. And that meant _anything_.

Dean's mouth was dry as he answered. "No thanks, Cas. Help yourself."

Cas shrugged and took the bowl back. Dean tried to keep his eyes on the page in front of him, but it was no use. Instead he watched, sweating bullets, as Cas began unwrapping a candy. Watched as he placed it between his full lips, which parted to grant it entrance, then smoothly slid over its surface, sucking it in like sensuous quicksand. Let it linger in his mouth for an obscene length of time. Chewed with deliberate slowness. Then, finally, swallowed.

Obviously none of that was _meant_ to be suggestive, but it didn't matter. Dean could not tear his eyes away from the sight as Cas unwrapped candy after candy, savoring and chewing and swallowing, until finally the bowl was empty and Cas was looking at it in abject disappointment.

"You, ah," Dean stuttered, trying to find his voice. "You got a little something on your cheek. Right here."

"Do I?" Cas found it with a finger and slid it into his mouth, sucking down the crumbs that had had the audacity to escape. Dean's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as the angel closed his eyes and sucked his finger in even further—all the way down to the knuckle—making it all but fucking impossible for the hunter to perceive Cas's newfound dietary habits in anything but a sexual light.

Cas opened his eyes, withdrawing a saliva-marinated finger. "Did I get it, Dean?" he asked, but Dean was already excusing himself and retreating into the bedroom, his head bowed and his face flushed and his jeans very,  _very_ uncomfortable in the crotch region.

========

There were no two ways around it. Becoming human had given Cas an oral fixation.

This, in turn, had given Dean some of the worst headaches of his life.

(Also, boners. Lots and lots of boners.)

How had things come to this?

Okay, so he liked Cas. Like, a _lot_. Maybe even loved him, in a very distinctly non-platonic way. And while Dean didn't have anything against gay people—no matter how much his dad had groomed him to harbor the opposite sentiments—crushing on guys just wasn't _him_. Dean Winchester was straight. Straight as an arrow. Straight as a—

_That_ particular fabrication was exposed for the house of cards it was the moment he had first walked in on Cas carefully peeling and eating a banana. For a grand total of ten seconds (although it felt more like ten years) he'd watched, transfixed, as Cas guided inch after inch of it between his lips, seemingly content to let the fruit's soft, textured bulk take up every last inch of space in his mouth, before there was a flash of too-white teeth and the whole thing disappeared down his throat—

Dean once more turned around and escaped into the bedroom.

That seemed to be happening to him a lot lately.

He later tried to console himself with the knowledge that at least the banana had only happened the one time. Not like the Skittles. Those were instruments of torture that managed to exact their excruciatingly lovely brand of torment upon the hunter on a daily basis.

Skittles were Cas's favorite candy. They were also Dean's. Not that he had ever actually had one, but watching Cas eat them you would've thought they were the most fucking amazing candy ever. For one thing, he wouldn't just pop handfuls in his mouth and chew like normal people did. Instead he'd do what he did with the chocolate and suck them down, one by one, each one slowly breaking the barrier of those soft plush lips, being inexorably drawn into the wet heat of his mouth, rolling along the velvety surface of his tongue (Cas played with his food anywhere from thirty seconds to five minutes—Dean knew, he'd timed it), and finally being swallowed whole.

Goddamn was Dean jealous of those Skittles. And as he began to surrender himself wholly to his fascination with Castiel's oral fixation—heterosexuality be damned—he found himself imagining the angel's warm breath ghosting over the muscled surface of his thighs, the slide of his tongue as it traversed the length of his cock, eventually settling, feather-light, over the tip, splashing hot foam into the slit...

Yeah. Like that was ever going to happen.

If it wasn't already a pretty well established fact that Cas had no interest in sex—even in his human incarnation—then he could bet that for damn sure Cas wasn't interested in _him_. Could never be.

He'd just have to do what he'd done his whole life and live off the meager crumbs that life had always handed him.

And try not to implode in the process.

========

It was only inevitable that he was going to screw up at some point. Reveal his hand, so to speak. Or at least where he was keeping his hand most of the time.

"Dean. Dean?"

Slowly, unwillingly, Dean blinked his way back to conscious awareness of his surroundings. He was surprised to see that he was seated at the study table across from Cas, who was nursing a half-empty bag of Kit Kats. What was he doing here again? The only thing he could really recall with any degree of clarity was the appealing _snap_ Cas's teeth made when they broke a Kit Kat in half, the sight of lips and teeth and tongue working together in efficient harmony to consume the sweet offering like a drawbridge. A sexy drawbridge. Dean's metaphors left a lot to be desired when he was horny.

"Is there something strange about how I eat?"

The tone of his voice hesitant, uncertain. _Embarrassed_ , even.

"Uh, no. Why?"

"You've been looking at me and you haven't said a word. If I'm doing something offensive, please tell me, Dean."

He was so _apologetic_. Dean could now add Thoughtless Dick Who Makes Nice Angels Doubt Their Ability To Assimilate Into Human Society to the ever-growing pile of pejoratives he regularly employed to describe himself, slipping it somewhere in between Creepy Voyeur and Failure Of A Big Brother. At the same time, however, he was too desperate to disentangle himself from the mess he'd created to focus on relieving Cas's hurt feelings. "You just shouldn't be eating all that sugary crap," he said, hoping his tone fell somewhere on the pendulum between dismissive and concerned. "You're gonna lose all your teeth or get diabetes or something."

Cas blinked with astonishment. "That's not fair," he pointed out, sounding for all the world like a child, albeit a gravelly-voiced one that could burn your eyes out of your face. "You eat burgers all the time, Dean. And I think you're well aware that red meat is terrible for you."

"Look, remember when I said that humans lie to get what they want?" Cas nodded. "Well, we're also massive hypocrites. Save the binges for Halloween, unless you like spending every other weekend at the ER."

Cas nodded again, more thoughtfully this time. "Do you think it will always be this way?" he said after a moment.

Dean didn't follow. "What way?"

"Losing my Grace. Becoming human. Do you think I'll always be a human?"

Now Dean was the one blinking in surprise. As much as Cas had seemed to enjoy his time as a human, he'd never actually volunteered a straight opinion on the subject. "I don't know, Cas. All I can say is that we're working on fixing the problem."

Cas fell silent for a moment. Then: "It wouldn't be so bad if I stayed a human. Really."

And that, in Dean's estimation, was what was _really_ mind-boggling. Cas willingly downgrading from all-powerful angel of the Lord to insignificant human speck? Were chocolates and big band records really _that_ much worth it? (He could have maybe understood if Cas was staying for the sex, but the fallen angel wasn't even interested in _that_ , as the hunter's frustrated libido regularly reminded him, with more than a little resentment.)

"Well, there's plenty of time to think about it," Dean said, trying to sound supportive instead of skeptical. More than anything he didn't want Cas to make a decision that he would later regret. There was a moment's hesitation, and then he reached out for Cas's hand, which was trembling. Cas himself had turned his eyes downward, mentally withdrawing into some realm that Dean could never hope to penetrate in his lifetime. Just as Cas, he realized with a start, could no longer penetrate his own mind using the power of his Grace. And yet he was considering an existence permanently bereft of the intimate knowledge of anyone else's headspace but his own.

At last Cas's eyes came alive again and he smiled at Dean. "Well," he said, "if I'm going to be a human, I'll have to start taking better care of myself." He patted Dean's hand, then transferred his own hand to the back of his neck, a sheepish expression stealing into his features as he looked longingly at the bag. "But—um—perhaps I could start tomorrow?"

The little bastard had no idea how cute he looked right then. Dean couldn't help but return Cas's smile. "Knock yourself out."

Cas happily dove back into his dwindling supply of Kit Kats; and this time, Dean found that he was able to resist staring. He had the feeling that he was finally going to be putting these absurd urges and feelings behind him—that the whole sorry episode had just been a case of wires getting temporarily crossed, no more substantial than a half-remembered dream—and later he would look back at all this and laugh his ass o—

For the space of half a second he allowed his eyes to stray towards Cas's mouth. The angel was eating with even _more_ enthusiasm now, probably because it would be a long time before he had any candy again; and the hunter had turned just in time to watch as an entire bar of chocolate, beginning to grow runny and drip from the heat of his breath, disappeared behind his lips and was slowly chewed to splinters. He made a little happy noise as he swallowed. It didn't sound much like a moan, but at that point it didn't matter. Dean felt like he had been struck by a lightning bolt; his heart swooped into his gut like a downed fighter jet. His cock, crying out in enraged protest against his intentions to keep things clean, suddenly fought to free itself from its oppressive prison of denim. Before he knew what he was doing he had flung himself around the table, grabbing Cas by the neck of that dopey fleece sweater Kevin had lent him, and from his mouth fell a command that seemed to have been piped in directly from his hormones.

"Kiss me," he hissed. When Cas stared up at him with those big blue (and totally bewildered) cornflower eyes and didn't do anything right away, Dean seized him by the hair and smashed his face against his. Immediately he was aware of the smear of chocolate inside Cas's lower lip, creamy and luscious as it was transferred to his own, and he lashed his tongue against it, ravenous for more, for more of _Castiel_. The angel responded not by pushing him away or returning his kiss but leaving his lips slightly parted, allowing Dean entrance; and the hunter pressed this advantage to the fullest, pushing in with lips and tongue to deepen the kiss—

At last he drew back, hunger momentarily sated, his breathing heavy and his forehead beaded with sweat. Cas returned his stare with equal intensity, color blooming in his pale cheeks, although he seemed more shocked than anything.

And that's when Dean realized what he had done.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, God. Cas. I'm sorry. I—"

"It's okay," the angel said quietly.

"No, no it's not okay. That was fucked up. I shouldn't have—"

"I take it that was supposed to be a confession?"

Dean froze. What the hell did he mean by that? And why did he say that like it was something amusing? "Con—confession? Of _what_?"

"A confession of love," Cas said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Upon seeing the confused expression on Dean's face grow even more pronounced, he smiled patiently. "I've known for a long time, Dean."

" _Known..._ " Dean's voice was suddenly thick with some emotion he couldn't place, replacing the shame and self-loathing he'd felt a second ago. He swallowed the lump that was rising in his throat. "Known what?"

"That you love me." Cas tilted his head in apparent perplexion. "I can't say I understand what brought this on so suddenly, of course—"

"It's the way you eat candy, you son of a bitch," Dean growled severely. Part of the anger was because he was feeling vulnerable and he always hated that, but also because he could feel his libido stomping out the few rational thoughts remaining in his head. "You're telling me you're not doing it on purpose?"

Cas's head tilted even more. "You find my eating... erotic?"

" _Who wouldn't_? Goddamn tease, with your Kit Kats and your Hersheys and your precious fucking _Skittles_ —"

It took a while for that to sink in, but once it did the confusion cleared on Cas's face and he favored him with a gentle smile. "I love you too, you know."

Later Dean would give this moment the attention it deserved, playing those words over and over in his head, but right now his only reaction was, "All right. Great. We're in love. Now what?"

Cas surveyed him up and down with eyes that were at once adoring and measuring, before they finally came to settle on the hunter's very visible hard-on. "I think taking care of that should be our first order of business," he said, and he rose to his feet and led a very dazed, very horny, and very disbelieving Dean Winchester down the hall.

========

It was all happening too fast. Not that Dean didn't want it. But—

"Are you sure about this?" he asked for maybe the tenth time as the two of them climbed into his bed, Cas cuddled close to him.

"Why wouldn't I be sure?" Cas said, slowly inching out of the hunter's arms, maneuvering on his elbows until he was in a lying position in front of Dean's waistband.

"Come on. I'm not an idiot. I know that you don't really get hot." It was hard to talk when Cas was staring intently at his crotch like that. Oh God, what was he thinking, try to put the kibosh on this? What kind of moron looked a gift horse in the mouth? On the other hand, what kind of asshole just jumped into bed with someone who might not be one hundred percent okay with it?

"The only thing I'm not sure of is why you think it's a problem." Cas's voice was firm and without a trace of doubt. "I love you, Dean. I want to please you. Nothing about what I am and am not is going to change that."

And Dean found he had no more words after that declaration, as Cas dimmed the bedside light and calmly unzipped his jeans, pulling them down his hips with frightening ease. He could feel his balls tighten at the movement, feel the heat radiating from his boxers in ever-expanding, ever-pulsing waves. Cas's pretty hands finished the short work of undressing him from the waist down, and even as Dean's cock sprang free with enthusiasm, he continued to hesitate.

"You don't have to," he said again.

"Hush," Cas whispered, and Dean hadn't realized how close Cas was until he felt the angel's breath ghosting out between his lips to brush against the tip of Dean's cock. Those pretty hands crept up his thighs, engaged in gentle exploration of Dean's body, until finally they were curled around the base of his cock, caressing each vein and contour with the pad of a finger, inspiring even more blood to come rushing up its length in eager leaps and bounds. Dean whimpered.

"Oh please," he murmured brokenly, "fuck me, fuck me with your mouth, Cas, _please_ —"

"You don't really want me to do that," Cas told him quietly. "You would much rather I took my time and enjoyed you." There was that warm and tantalizing breeze again, rolling sinuously over the tip of his cock, invading the exposed slit as the angel peeled back the foreskin _(just like the banana oh jesus fuck)_. Dean suddenly thought—knew—that he needed something that was wild and rough and fast, but he also recognized that he was at Cas's mercy, and they would have to do things at his pace. Slowly—almost shyly—Cas closed the impossibly small gap between his lips and Dean's cock, and then Dean was _inside him_ , all of him engulfed in that warm wet den, in that mouth that was so much like a cunt but so much _better_ , because it belonged to Cas and Cas loved him, was savoring him like he was his most delicious piece of chocolate yet. Dean gave a long, tortured moan and placed his hands on his angel's head, fingers twisting gently through the dark messy hair, watching as his eyes fluttered closed and his mouth completely took control.

Dean knew that Castiel had never had sex before. But he was a hell of a study at giving head. He seemed to know exactly how to meet Dean's unspoken needs, when to speed up or slow down the silky slide of his mouth, which places he needed to suck and kiss to draw forth a moan or a whimper or a low, adoring sob. And he was right: Dean _did_ need this. Not for someone to fuck him, but to make love to him. And there was love as much as there was untold pleasure in the slow drag of Cas's tongue across his head, in his lips as they squeezed and relaxed around the shaft, sustaining a tempo that was gentle and easy and yet never stopped, _ever_. In the meantime his fingers, heavenly and sinful, traveled over Dean's body, exerting light pressure on his skin and cradling his ass. Whenever Dean felt he was close to climaxing, Cas seemed to sense this and would slow down, always slow down, drawing out the protracted pleasure and agony for as long as possible.

The really strange thing was that it all remained so _chaste_. There was really nothing needful or cunning about Cas's oral ministration; it was an action equivalent to a mother feeding her child when it was hungry, or comforting it when it was hurt. Cas was in that moment a caregiver, unconditionally fulfilling a need without giving a thought for himself. Dean found that he didn't mind this at all. He felt soupy, indefatiguable happiness spread throughout his body as he submitted to the angel's care, slowly sliding in and out of Cas's mouth, which rewarded him with long, slow strokes of his tongue along his shaft, a hot velvet bed that wrung satisfaction from his every nerve ending and set him to trembling.

"More," he begged, although he didn't know how it could feel any better than this. "Wetter..." At first he wasn't sure if Cas heard him, but then the angel pulled off of him, and Dean looked down to see his mouth brushing the crown of his cock, lips freely dribbling saliva down the sides, building a slick gleaming film that was visible even in the dim light. He immediately followed this with a trail of kisses, sweet and moist, traveling up one side and down the other, his lips dripping as if with precious nectar. Dean's hips bucked once in spite of himself. This was far more delicious and _wet_ than he had any right to expect. Then Cas's mouth was poised above his cock again, lips shining with spit as they spread to consume him, claiming inch after inch of flesh with a tenderness that was inexpressible.

He couldn't take it anymore. "Cas, I love you... wanna come..." He continued stroking the angel's hair, making his need known in a way that was not urgent but still pleading. Cas responded by picking up his pace and, with a hum of contentment, began increasing the pressure on Dean's tortured cock, bringing it closer to the resolution that he so badly needed. His lips glided back and forth effortlessly over the now soaked and bulging flesh, taking more and more of Dean into himself on each downstroke; and that hum, _mmmmm_ , gentle and motherly and yet totally erotic, sent vibrations tingling up and down Dean's shaft.

His inevitable release, when it came, was as explosive and violent as the climb to the peak had been sensual and unhurried. Dean bit back a scream of ecstasy as come discharged from the tip of his cock in what had to be buckets, and too late he realized that Cas might not actually want to swallow him. He pushed both hands down on the angel's head, intending to spare him, but Cas stubbornly held on, ignoring Dean's fingers as they attempted to gently extricate him. As more and more come flooded forth, he felt all the strength drain out of him, and he slumped against Cas, already half in and out of a post-orgasmic stupor. He returned to playing with Cas's hair, thoughtlessly now, knowing that soon even his fingers would not be able to sustain their movements. All the while, he watched Cas: watched as the angel continued tending to him, kissing away stray drops of saliva and come, letting the contents of Dean's cock linger on his tongue for as long as possible. He swallowed and Dean imagined the concoction sliding down his throat, warming his insides as Cas had warmed Dean's. The thought coaxed a few more beads of come from his head and he drew a deep breath, unprepared as Cas leaned forward and collected these stragglers as well, trapping them behind his full lips, which moved with the vibrations of his resumed humming.

Dean waited for Cas to finish cleaning him up. He was almost too sensitive to endure this part, but Cas was no less gentle now that the sex was over. When he was done he lay down next to Dean and held him. Dean was too tired to protest this treatment—to insist that he wasn't a baby and Cas didn't need to hold him like one—and anyway, he kind of _was_ the kid in this relationship, if you took the colossal age difference into account.

And holy shit, there was a relationship now. _T_ _hat_ was something to think about, now that his brain was properly functioning again.

"Did you like that?" Cas asked after a long and comfortable silence. Dean blinked incredulously. He almost laughed, but stopped when he realized that Cas was asking the question in earnest.

"On a scale of one to ten? A billion points to Gryffindor."

Cas just stared down at him, and he sighed. "It means you were amazing. Best blowjob I've ever had, actually."

Cas nodded and smiled. "Good. I enjoyed giving it to you. Although, my jaw does hurt a bit now."

"Oh. Damn." Dean deflated. "I'm sorry, Cas. I shouldn't have been so self—"

"Stop," Cas said, and now his bearing really _was_ maternal, as he sternly placed a finger to his lips. "I'm not in the mood to hear you say ridiculous things. I just wanted to be sure that I made you happy. If you're happy, then so am I."

Dean got the hint and shut up. Half of him was itching to return Castiel's sexual favor, but the other half felt that Cas would get annoyed again if he said anything, and he didn't want to break the mood. Instead he cuddled closer to Cas, pressing his cheek into the warm fleece of his sweater. The angel's arms shifted around him and now he could feel fingers on his other cheek, stroking softly. Dean smiled as inspiration suddenly called to him. He supposed that Willy Wonka could live after all.

"I am going to make the most _amazing_ dessert for you tonight, Cas. Just you wait."

"It's going to be a pie, isn't it?"

"Tch, _no_! It's going to be, um... uh... okay, you got me."

He couldn't see Cas's face, but he could hear the smile in his voice. "It could never taste as good as you, anyway."


End file.
